


see you on that victory line

by Suicix



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Community: femslashbb, F/F, Female Friendship, Femslash Big Bang Monthly Challenge, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Injury, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 17:57:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8170696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suicix/pseuds/Suicix
Summary: “So.” Sasha clears her throat. “It’s been a while.”


  A while since the last time they saw each other at SummerSlam after a year of being in the same vicinity as each other. Even longer – much longer – since Becky’s been here, in her apartment.

Set sometime soon after SummerSlam 2016.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [September Challenge](http://femslashbb.livejournal.com/16207.html) \- "what could have been" - at Femslash Big Bang on LiveJournal.

Sasha really doesn’t think she can take much more of this sitting around at home, even if it’s barely been a couple of days. The doctors have said it shouldn’t be too long, but it’s still frustrating. Far past frustrating, actually – _infuriating_. Sasha’s been pushed close to tears more than once since losing the title, since she was told she has to just sit back and watch instead of competing, but she’s just shoved those tears back down, blinking so hard that it burns. She won’t be that weak. She’s the _boss_ , and the boss absolutely does _not_ cry. She _might_ have got a bit teary when she won the title, but she definitely doesn’t cry when the going gets tough.

So, she’s already getting restless. She wants to be in the ring, wants to be in front of a crowd, wants to win back her title and stick it to Charlotte once again.

(She hates it, the fact that Charlotte’s managed to take the title back for once, the fact that Charlotte has something to hold over her head again, the fact that when she returns, settling a score with Charlotte might not even mean winning back the championship. Charlotte needs to lose to _her_ again, for a third time. It can’t be any other way.)

Sasha’s pulled from her thoughts by the sound of the doorbell from the hall. Now, really? At this time? She doesn’t necessarily _want_ to go and see who it is and what they want, but she guesses she should. With a sigh, she detaches herself from the couch and makes her way to the front door.

She reaches for the door handle, sighing again as she pulls it open, heavier this time, and – Becky? Sasha frowns. Even though it’s getting late, she was expecting it to be someone trying to sell her some piece of junk she doesn’t need, not someone she actually knows.

“Uh, hi?” Becky says, sounding a little sheepish. “I know you probably weren’t expecting me. Or anyone, I don’t think. But especially not me.” There’s a brief pause. Sasha raises her eyebrows, a silent _so?_ , and Becky takes a deep breath before she continues. “I would ask how you are, but–”

“I’m good,” Sasha says, maybe a little too quickly, shooting the words out before Becky’s even finished speaking.

“I was going to say, but you’re injured so you probably don’t want to be asked that,” Becky says, her tone light. “You’re doing everything the doctors have told you to, right?”

Sasha rolls her eyes.

“Of course I am,” she says. “God, I’m not _stupid_.”

“I know you’re not,” says Becky. “But you’re stubborn.”

It’s true. Sasha has to admit it. She shrugs.

“Sure,” she says. She taps out a rhythm with her nails on the doorframe. “Are you expecting to come in, or what?”

“That was what I was aiming for, yeah,” Becky says, so Sasha lets her in. Now the door’s closed, she can’t help but notice that Becky’s got a bag with her, one of her gym bags, an overnight bag. Is she expecting to stay? Why is she even here in the first place? Whatever. She’s here, and Sasha has to handle it.

“So.” Sasha clears her throat. “It’s been a while.”

A while since the last time they saw each other at SummerSlam after a year of being in the same vicinity as each other. Even longer – much longer – since Becky’s been here, in her apartment.

“It has,” Becky agrees, kicking her shoes off. She’s smiling, but her tone sounds kind of solemn. Sasha isn’t sure what to do with that.

They’re pretty much just standing around in the hallway, looking at each other. Sasha still can’t tell what Becky wants, why she’s here. She starts to move through to the living room, and Becky follows. Even there, though, they’re still just standing there, both seeming unwilling to make the first move.

“Um,” Sasha says. “You wanna sit down? You want a drink?”

“That would be great.” Becky flashes her a grin and moves across to the couch while Sasha heads to the kitchen. She calls out to ask what Becky wants, and Becky calls an answer back to her, and Sasha brings two glasses in and sets them down on the coffee table. It feels almost like old times, except not at all. Things are different now.

Things are different at work – the brand split pretty much makes sure of that – and things are different between them. In a way, Sasha’s glad there’s little chance they’ll be forced to explode on each other soon unless they’re both drafted to the same brand next time around, but it’s a shame, too: she loves competing against Becky, or even just watching from ringside as Becky takes on someone else. She’s so passionate, and she always puts in at least a hundred percent, and watching her lose, especially against someone who’s done her wrong, gets – disheartening after a while. (Unless she loses to Sasha, of course. That’s different. Sasha is in the ring to do nothing less than win, even against someone who’s important to her.)

“Thanks,” Becky says, picking up her glass to take a drink, and when she places the glass back down on the table – “I know I said I wouldn’t ask this, but… how are you?”

“You know,” Sasha tells her after a pause, a shrug. “Injured. Bored. Here at home instead of winning matches.”

Becky nods, slow, humming in consideration as she does.

“It’s not fair,” she says. “It’s not fair for this to happen to anyone, but it’s especially not fair that it’s happened to you. You deserve more than this, and you’ll get that, I know you will, but you should have been able to have a long title reign, not just that win. Of course I was watching that RAW, and you were – you were so _happy_.”

“I was,” Sasha admits. “I mean, I had a great reign at NXT, but this was–”

“It’s different,” Becky finishes for her, and Sasha nods. “Of course it is. Your title run back then _was_ pretty amazing, though. Even if we – y’know. Ended up at each other’s throats.”

And that sets them off, gets them headed down a path of nostalgia and reminiscing, not just of the past year but from the very beginning, the good times and the bad, matches that were broadcast across the world and the most secret of moments alike. Becky might have arrived at NXT quite some time after Sasha did, but they’ve still been through a lot together, is what Sasha’s realising from the conversation. Of course she already knew it, but this just emphasises that all the more. That they’ve been through so much, and that – that so much of it is important to Sasha.

They end up closer together on the couch than Sasha anticipated, and she’s unconsciously setting a hand down on Becky’s thigh as she talks, batting Becky on the arm with the back of her hand when Becky comes out with a truly terrible pun. She’s missed this, missed it being this easy to be around someone, to open up to them. She’s missed – she’s missed _Becky_.

She hadn’t realised just how much until now, and she doesn’t think she could actually _tell_ Becky that, but it’s true. It’s been true since she was first sent to red and Becky to blue, was true when they passed each other backstage at Battleground and SummerSlam, is true now as Sasha leans against Becky’s shoulder as she yawns into her own hand.

“Getting kind of late,” Becky says, raising an eyebrow. “You should rest. You’re hurt, you need it.”

Sasha supposes that’s true.

“You can – I don’t know. I guess you can sleep on the couch if you want,” she says. Then she adds: “Or in my room. You know the bed’s big enough. Whatever.”

It’s not an offer Sasha expected to make, but she expects Becky to be gone in the morning, anyway. Gone before she even wakes up herself. And if she is awake, then she’ll pretend. She’ll pretend she’s asleep, and they won’t be able to say goodbye. They won’t _have_ to say goodbye.

“I’d like that,” says Becky. She shoots Sasha a smile, the kind that seems to go right to Sasha’s chest and makes her feel – warm. Almost like flames there in her ribcage, she thinks, but nothing too hot, nothing too dangerous, nothing that threatens to burst out of her and set fire to her surroundings. The kind of flames in a fireplace on a cold winter’s evening. Something contained, something cosy, something she’s comfortable with. Something that makes her _feel_ more comfortable. More at home.

They get up from the couch, and Sasha leads Becky through to her bedroom, giving Becky a moment to pick up her bag on the way. She’s been in here before, too. Of course she has. Stayed here, spent whole days here, the two of them in Sasha’s bed. Just not as recently as she’s been in the rest of Sasha’s apartment.

Becky pulls an old t-shirt out of her bag and changes into that and her underwear to sleep in, and Sasha tries not to watch her too closely, heading for the bathroom to wash her face and clean her teeth when she realises that she _really_ is staring. She’s joined by Becky soon enough, who’s brought her own toothbrush but needs to use Sasha’s toothpaste. Sasha hands it over silently when she asks, and it all feels very – domestic. That isn’t something Sasha thought she could ever have living a life on the road like this, something she gave up when she chose this path in life, something she sure doesn’t have now, but she doesn’t think she’d mind it with Becky. Maybe they can try to make a proper go of things once all is said and done. It’s very much a longshot, considering they’ll both have years of wrestling ahead of them, considering how quickly things can change, considering that they were never really something concrete in the first place, but there’s a seed of hope that Sasha’s holding onto, even if it _is_ just a seed. She knows she can’t let it grow.

She leaves the bathroom – she was just about done, anyway, and being in there for too long with Becky like that was making her _feel_ things – and starts to get changed for bed. Becky re-joins her before she’s in bed and gets in first, taking the side of the bed she always did when she used to stay. Sasha gets under the covers on the other side, ready to start trying to sleep just like that, but Becky says, “Come here,” and so Sasha does.

The light goes out, and she falls asleep soon enough, tucked against Becky’s chest.

 

 

When she wakes up, it’s still dark, she’s still tired, and Becky isn’t beside her. Sasha frowns, yawns, fumbles around for her phone on the nightstand to look at the clock, and – _oh_. It’s early, way too early to be awake when you have nothing to do but stay home and mope around feeling sorry for yourself. How can Becky have gone already?

But no, Becky’s bag is still there, still by the mirror in the corner of the room where she left it. Sasha didn’t expect that. She didn’t expect Becky to even show up in the first place, but she especially didn’t expect Becky to _stay_. Come to think of it, she can hear Becky over in the bathroom, can hear the flush of the toilet and then the sound of footsteps padding back to the bedroom.

“You’re still here?” Sasha wonders when Becky appears in the doorway. “How come you’re still here?”

The questions are met with a shrug.

“Well, it’s kind of early. Plus, I actually wanted to stay? I could stay longer, though. Keep you company.”

“You’d do that?” _Of course Becky would do that_ , the voice in Sasha’s head tells her. _Of **course** she would_.

“Just until Smackdown,” Becky says. She walks back over to the bed, getting herself back under the duvet. “Then I’ll have to be off again.”

“Don’t you have house shows you’re supposed to be at?”

Again, Becky only shrugs.

“I… kinda took the rest of the week off?”

“They actually let you do that?” Sasha raises her eyebrows. “Huh. I wouldn’t have thought so.”

“It’s not like I’m missing any TV tapings. Not like I’ve missed any before, either. It’s not much. I work hard. I deserve to have a little time off.”

Sasha nods, considering, agreeing. _Good_. Becky does work hard, and Sasha’s pleased – _proud_ – that she’s making a decision for herself rather than letting someone else make it for her. With an attitude like this, she’ll be much more likely to win a title, just like she deserves. The brand split makes sure that she and Sasha won’t be competing for the same prize for at least the next year or so. Also good. Sasha doesn’t want Becky to drift away from her, but she especially doesn’t want them to be rivals. Not again. A one-off match would be fun, but she doesn’t think she can take a full-blown feud. Not right now.

Thinking about Becky taking a little time off reminds her of her _own_ time off, time off she didn’t get to pick and choose. It’s difficult not to think about what could have been of her title reign, of her and Becky if things had been different in any way at all. If things had been different in NXT, in their first year on the main roster, as recently as the draft. She doubts she’ll ever get to find out now. Sure, she can win the title again, and she _will_ , and if she’s ever drafted to Smackdown, she’ll win the title over there, too, but it won’t be the same. It won’t be what she planned, that record breaking first reign that beats out everyone that came before her and cements her place in history for sure.

“I wish _I_ didn’t have to take time out, though,” she says. “I’m supposed to be the champion, out there winning matches and making history. I’d have _my_ title, and you could win the title over on Smackdown, and it could be the two of us. The two of us making it together.”

Becky hums, considering, the noise hardly even audible.

“I think just getting to where we are is enough of a sign that we’ve made it, titles or not,” she says, quiet. It’s probably meant to make Sasha feel better, but there are – there are certain _implications_ there that Sasha doesn’t like the sound of.

“Is that what you tell yourself?” she asks Becky. “That you’ll be completely satisfied with your career whether or not you ever manage to win a title?”

“I mean, I’d love to, but–”

“But what, Bex? You’re good. You _know_ you’re good. Bayley did it. She won it from _me_. You’re just as good as her, as Charlotte, as anyone else. You can do it, too.” Sasha swallows, glancing away for a second before directing her gaze back on Becky, eyes right on Becky’s. “I know you can.”

“I guess we’ll have to see,” Becky says. “It means a lot, though. That you’d have such faith in me.”

“Of course I do,” Sasha tells her. “How could I _not_? You’re so talented. You work so hard. Everyone does, but especially you.”

Becky’s smiling again, another warm-hearth-flame-fire smile, and Sasha can’t help but return it. She hopes she makes Becky feel the same way. She really, really hopes so. Becky _deserves_ to feel like that, dammit. She deserves it because of how many times other people have torn her down ( _including me_ , Sasha thinks, and it’s a stab to the heart), because she came here in the evening out of the goodness of her heart and seemingly nothing else, because she somehow still places friendship and teamwork above a championship even if Sasha can’t understand that herself, because of… for so many reasons.

And thinking about all those reasons has Sasha moving closer, has her reaching out for Becky’s face, has her pressing a soft kiss to Becky’s cheek.

Becky makes a noise – a gasp, and it’s quiet, surprised sounding – and her eyes are wide when Sasha looks at her, but she leans into the touch. Sasha silently rejoices. She rejoices even more when Becky reaches out for _her_ , when Becky’s hand is in her hair, when Becky’s mouth is on hers.

It’s been – a while, as Sasha said earlier. It’s been a while since they’ve done this, and even longer since they’ve been soft and tender with each other like this. There was hardly a time when they were, she supposes, but there were – moments. Moments among everything else: among teaching Becky to be a boss like her, among being on different sides of a revolution but still somehow always falling back into each other, among all the hair-pulling and reluctant teamwork and refusal to show any weakness.

“I – I’ve missed this,” says Becky when they pull away from each other. Their foreheads are still touching, and there’s still a hand in Sasha’s hair, still one cupping Becky’s face.

“Yeah.” Sasha nods. The movement presses her head against Becky’s just a little more. “I’ve missed it too. Missed you.”

That makes Becky smile wider, makes her lean in even impossibly closer.

“Now get some more sleep,” she says, pulling back and stroking a hand down Sasha’s cheek. “It’s the middle of the night, and you need your rest. Then you’ll be taking on Charlotte for your title in no time.”

“Damn right,” says Sasha. She leans back in for another kiss, this one brief, just a peck, and then lies back down, her head on Becky’s chest, just like before.

She didn’t think Becky coming here would pull them back together like this, doesn’t even know what the two of them think they’re doing right now and what it will come of it, but she doesn’t think she cares. For now, Becky is in her bed, and she’s in Becky’s arms, and it’s exactly what Sasha didn’t know she needed.

They can figure it out in the morning.


End file.
